


Day Drinking

by EmeraldAshes



Series: Ineffable Husbands Oneshots [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, An Angel and a Demon Meet in a Bar, Awkward Romance, Aziraphale Gets Fired, Bartender Crowley (Good Omens), Bartenders, But He's Still Salty About It, Cute, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Office Worker Aziraphale, Technically He Quit, Wait...That's a Tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24138898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldAshes/pseuds/EmeraldAshes
Summary: Aziraphale peered miserably up at the unfairly attractive bartender, wondering how this day could get any worse. "I did ten times more than Gabriel ever did, but somehow he has an office with windows. And I have...what do I have?”“Self-respect?” Crowley suggested.Aziraphale shook his head, gesturing for another drink. “No, that doesn’t sound right."
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Husbands Oneshots [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527989
Comments: 16
Kudos: 209





	Day Drinking

“So, what’s got you day drinking, then?”

Aziraphale peered up at the unfairly attractive bartender, wondering if this day could get any worse. “It’s nothing, really.”

The redhead, tall and thin, eyes almost gold in the dim light of the bar, glanced down at the whiskey Aziraphale was cradling. “Doesn’t look like nothing. Wanna share?”

The blond snorted. “You do ask quite a lot of questions, don’t you?”

“Keeps things interesting. Playing Father confessor’s the best part of my job. So go on then. Confess.” The bartender leaned close, waggling his eyebrows. He was wearing a button-down shirt but had left the top few unbuttoned, showing off a hint of hard chest. 

Bloody hell, Aziraphale wasn’t made of  _ stone  _ \-- and even if he was, he would have cracked right then. “I quit my job.”

The bartender grinned, teeth a bit too sharp to be friendly. “Congrats. On to bigger and better things?”

Aziraphale smiled back. “Maybe. Assuming my old company doesn’t go ahead and destroy my career. They threatened to, on my way out.”

“They sound like real assholes.”

“They  _ are.  _ And the worst part is that we’re, er,  _ they’re _ part of a nonprofit organization. The mission is good, but somehow it all ends up muddled, and next thing you know everything gone, to, to..”

The bartender whispered, “You’re allowed to say ‘shit,' you know.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“I’m Crowley, by the way.” The bartender extended a hand, which Aziraphale shook. The hand was warm, the fingers long and thin. Aziraphale let go almost immediately, rejecting the urge to cling to it. It had been a bad day, that was all. And it had been a while since he’d dated anyone. No excuse to get desperate.

“Aziraphale,” the blond said, and then quickly answered the usual question. “It’s a family name.”

“Some family,” Crowley said cheerfully. “As long as we're sharing, Crowley’s my last name.”

“And your first?”

“Nobody calls me by it. I’d like to keep it that way. Another drink?”

Aziraphale glanced down at his empty glass. “Sure.”

Some time and several “another drinks” later, Aziraphale moaned. “I can’t believe they fired me.”

“I thought you said you quit?” Crowley asked mildly. 

“I did! I put in my two weeks’ notice, like any respectable person, and then they started talking about non-compete agreements and how ‘action might have to be taken’ and next thing I knew I had quit on the spot. And then they walked me out like a common criminal. They didn’t even let me take my pen because it was a company pen, and I  _ liked  _ that pen, Crowley. It was a good pen.”

“I’m sure it was,” Crowley said sympathetically.

“And I was a good employee! I did ten times more than Gabriel ever did, but somehow he has an office with  _ windows.  _ And I have...what do I have?”

“Self-respect?” Crowley suggested.

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, that doesn’t sound right. Oh! Wait. Now I have two weeks before my new position starts, and what am I even supposed to do with two weeks?”

“You could take a vacation.” The bartender was clearly having fun with this. He almost seemed to be expecting the rejection before it came.

“Oh, absolutely not. I wouldn’t know what to do on a vacation. I haven’t taken a proper one in years.”

“Lie on a beach and look pretty. Maybe work on your tan.”

Aziraphale gestured with his drink, the whiskey coming dangerously close to sloshing over onto the bar. “Do I really look like someone who would tan?”

“Mmm, maybe not,” Crowley said, casually sliding a napkin toward him as he turned toward another customer.

Aziraphale grabbed the napkin to dab at his forehead, and across the bar, Crowley made a small pained noise at the realization that his scribbled-down number had been reduced to ink smudges on the blond’s forehead.

Crowley returned with renewed determination -- and a shirt that had now lost another button. “Can I get you something more, uh, tropical? Might get you in the holiday mood. Sunrise? Mojito? Sex on the Beach?”

“I don’t particularly like fruity drinks,” Aziraphale said. He was blushing, which he would blame on the alcohol if anyone asked, but frankly, it wasn’t the alcohol.

“What do you like, then?” The statement seemed innocuous enough, but dear lord, the other man’s voice was so deep and rough that it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Redheads, I suppose.” Aziraphale was absolutely blaming that one on the alcohol.

Crowley grinned, leaning close. “Are you flirting with me?”

Aziraphale lurched back, nearly falling off the stool. “What? No, no, of course not. You’re working.”

Crowley’s smile grew, and he winked. “Well, if you’d like to start, let me know.”

Aziraphale tentatively moved his body back toward the bar. “Uh, I might...start doing that now. Assuming you don’t object, of course.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Crowley retorted. “Frankly, it would really help out my ego, seeing as how I’ve been flirting with you since the moment you walked in.”

“Oh. Well, I had thought perhaps you were, but I didn’t want to  _ assume. _ ”

Crowley casually grabbed Aziraphale’s glass and took a sip, tongue darting out to swipe away a bit of alcohol from his lips. “Assume away, angel.”

Deciding that was as clear an invitation as any, Aziraphale pushed out of his seat, leaned over the bar, and kissed the bartender. Perhaps, Aziraphale thought dazedly as thin fingers crawled down his back and warm lips pressed hungrily against his, he might enjoy this vacation after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I posted. I've been a mixture of bored out of my mind, grateful I have a job, not wanting to do the job I'm grateful to have, online dating, quitting online dating, dating a guy long-distance after three dates (yay quarantine), breaking up with a guy, living with family in harmony, living with the family in ZERO harmony, and baking. 
> 
> TL;DR: The past few months have been ridiculous. Here's hoping y'all get some fics out of it.


End file.
